


Cellar Door (Pitter Patter Goes My Heart)

by MaxWrite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Post-War, Twincest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-09
Updated: 2009-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy's always been on the outside looking in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cellar Door (Pitter Patter Goes My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Weasley Fest](http://weasley_fest.livejournal.com) '09.

The raindrops laid in diagonal streaks across the window are caught in moonlight and look like shards of crystal frozen in mid-air. Percy concentrates on them, thinks they look almost like slashes in the glass, as though someone's been lashing the window with something sharp. The rain's pitter-patter begins softly and slowly builds, as do the noises in the next room.

The noises stab at an achy, tender place inside him. They are noises of unadulterated bliss, of a bond he'll never quite understand. They're beautiful noises, really. Sick? Yes, definitely. Harsh and clawing and hard to hear? Yes, all of that too. But he can't stop listening. They've forgotten to cast any silencing spells. Again. But Percy doesn't bother doing it for them. Not this time. It's become harder and harder not to listen.

He wishes he could distinguish their voices, but they're identical. He stands with his back pressed to the wall that divides the two bedrooms, head back against it, teeth clenched, eyes now closed, cock out, fist pumping his own flesh faster, harder, almost angrily. _You're sick,_ he thinks to himself. _You're as disturbed and unhealthy as they are._ But he can't stop. He doesn't want to, no matter what it might say about him.

They're coming. Both of them in unison, voices hard and grunting one moment, soft and breathy the next. They sound right together somehow, their pleasure crying out some bizarre melody. Like their own private song, Percy thinks. He aches more at that thought.

He quivers, keeps his mouth shut tight and starts coming too, desperately trying to keep quiet. They can't ever hear him, can't ever know that he's turned their private love into some disgusting threesome. He comes in silence, in hard little puffs of air through his nose, in shuddering jerks and spurts until it's all gone.

He opens his eyes and keeps listening, like a masochist. Their sated little murmurs and soft chuckles are like salt in a wound. He looks toward his crystal shard-flecked window again. He feels like something's been etched into him, like he's caught a glimpse of something he can never touch, and never forget.

**5 Years Later**

Fred is dead. He's dead and there's nothing Percy can do about it. He'd wasted so much time, been gone so long, only to come back and have his little brother die at his side.

He doesn't look at anyone as he carries the body into the Great Hall. He can't meet his family's eyes. He can't look at George, can't bear to see recognition wash over that face when he realises his twin is gone forever

Percy feels responsible. He feels he's to blame simply because he's the one delivering the body. Most of all he feels he's to blame because he was _there_ , because Fred was talking to _him_ when it happened. They're going to ask him how it happened. They're going to want to know. How can he possibly tell them? He doesn't even know if he can speak.

He lays the body down at George's feet and straightens up again. He still can't look at George and is grateful that George isn't looking at him either. He sees George in his periphery, staring down at his other half. He can't look at George. He may never be able to look at George again.

George falls to his knees at Fred's head and Percy looks away. He can hear his family's voices. He can hear the anguish, the shock, the disbelief, the rage in every single voice except George's, because George isn't saying anything. Percy turns away and starts walking. He can't stay here. He's going to break down. All those little etches in his soul are going to widen and crack open. He's going to lose his fucking mind.

He sees nothing except the doors he's headed for. Bodies and tears and pain surround him, but he sees none of it. He's fleeing. He has no idea where. He might never come back.

An arm wraps around him from behind. He struggles against it. His face scrunches up in anguish and then the tears come. He can't stop them. He can't stop anything. He's completely helpless.

"Stay," a soft, low voice pleads with him. The long, slender arm, so much like his own, pulls him back against a body very much like his, only older and comforting. He's missed this man so much, he can't stand it.

"Please don't go," the voice says in his ear. It is calm and steady and reassuring, and somehow sad and vulnerable at the same time.

Percy stops struggling. He stands there in more pain than he's ever felt in his whole life. He'll never recover. He turns to look into the eyes that are like his, that are brimming with tears just like his.

"Dad," is all he manages to say before falling into his father's arms and sobbing on his shoulder.

He lets his father usher him back. He still looks at no one but Fred until George turns his face up and Percy can't stop his eyes from meeting his little brother's.

George isn't crying. Percy doesn't understand it. Why isn't George crying?

"He's not dead," says George, looking right into Percy's eyes. "He's not dead."

Percy understands. George is in denial. He can't accept it. His brain can't fathom what's happened.

"Georgie," says their mother with a sniffle, kneeling by George's side, laying her hands on his shoulders and looking at him with pity and sadness. "He's gone, love. He's gone."

George stubbornly shakes his head. He lays a hand on Fred's chest and looks down at his face again. "He's alive. I can feel it." He looks up at all of them again, and this time his eyes are imploring. "I'm serious."

"Believe him," says Charlie. "We have to get Fred to St. Mungo's right now."

"What are you two talking about?" asks their mother tearfully. Percy wonders the same thing.

* * *

Fred is not dead.

"Explain this to us one more time," says Lee Jordan. He and Angelina Johnson have joined the family, who are all gathered in a St. Mungo's waiting room.

"It's called the Image of Death," explains Charlie. "It imitates death in almost every way except for, well, the actual dying part. His heart, his lungs, all his vital organs have stopped working, but they're not damaged, they're just... on pause, if you will."

"I've never heard of it," says Angelina.

"You're not the only one," says Arthur. "None of us had heard of it until today. Except Charlie."

"It happened a few years back to one of the handlers I work with on the dragon reserve," says Charlie. "He was attacked and burnt pretty badly. We all thought he was dead until we were told otherwise."

"But he's fine now," says Bill. "You told me he made a full recovery."

"Yeah, he's doing great. He woke up barely a week after his attack. And Healer Heilen says there's no reason why Fred shouldn't make a full recovery."

"But what caused this?" asks Angelina. "And why don't more people know about it?"

"Healer Heilen says they're not entirely sure what causes it," Charlie goes on. "There've only been a handful of documented cases in the UK and a few scattered across the world in wizarding communities. It seems to occur when the victim has an intense connection to another living human being."

Molly whimpers and dabs at her eyes with her handkerchief. "He doesn't want to leave us."

"Er... if you don't mind my saying," interjects Hermione timidly, "I don't think that's it exactly."

The group turns to look at her. She is sitting on a faded, ancient-looking couch with Ron on her right and Harry and Ginny on her left.

"Well, who else could it be?" asks Bill. "We're his family."

Hermione explains, "Well, I actually had heard of this as well –"

"Big shocker," says Ron, who receives a reproachful look from her. "What? You've heard of everything."

She rolls her eyes and goes on: "Some of the documented cases had victims that were newlyweds, mothers of very young children, and... siblings from multiple births."

There are murmurs and exchanged glances throughout the group.

"Siblings from multiple births," says Ginny. "You mean twins and triplets and so on."

"Yes," says Hermione. "Identicals especially. It's believed that, at the moment of death, the body puts up defences to stop itself dying because it is still so connected to its twin or child or significant other, or whoever it is the victim believes still needs them. It's possible that the rest of you had something to do with it... but it isn't likely. Don't misunderstand; I'm not saying Fred doesn't love you all very much. You're his family, of course he loves you. But this is a bond that can literally stop _death_. It's more likely that it's George he's stayed behind for. It was George who realised Fred wasn't dead, wasn't it? He's the only one who could tell."

Percy sits slightly apart from the group, his eyes on the floor, thinking about Hermione's words; _a bond that can stop death..._

Percy stands and heads out of the room. He should need these people now. He should crave their closeness. But he feels disconnected. Perhaps he was gone too long. Perhaps he's simply always been too independent for his own good. Perhaps their obvious closeness only emphasises his outsiderness. He's being selfish and he knows it. He can practically feel his father's eyes on his back as he walks away. He doesn't know where he's going when he leaves, but he knows where he'll end up before he gets there.

He doesn't know why he's come to Fred's room. The thought of facing George still makes him queasy. Perhaps he just wants to get the conversation over with, explain to George what happened, let George get his anger out, blame him, yell at him, hit him if he wants, anything he wants. It might make Percy feel better. Percy chastises himself for wanting to feel better at a time like this. He has no right.

He peers into the room and his entire body feels as though it might just turn tail and bolt for an exit without permission. He doesn't want to see his little brother looking like a corpse. He's seen it already and it isn't something he'll soon forget. But he makes himself look and is pleasantly surprised; Fred looks peaceful, like he's simply sleeping. Which, Percy supposes, he kind of is.

Percy hovers in the doorway, watching. George is sitting by Fred's side, eyes locked on his face. George's face is unreadable as he reaches out and brushes Fred's fringe off his forehead. Percy can see George inhale deeply, slowly exhale and bite his bottom lip, continuing to pet Fred's hair. Then he leans over, cups Fred's face and presses his mouth to Fred's forehead. He closes his eyes and stays that way for a long while, caressing Fred's cheek. His brow furrows and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Percy looks away. He shouldn't be here. He hasn't been there for three years, he certainly has no right to be witnessing this. He wants to back away and leave, but something holds him there. He glances back in at the pair, watches George nuzzle and stroke Fred's face. Percy thinks he can hear George murmuring. No, he definitely should not be witnessing this. Something about this is so private, so intimate, it's like sex, some kind of twin connection that shouldn't be seen by others. Percy feels like he's staring into the sun, the image now seared onto his retinas.

Then George opens his eyes, straightens up again and looks right at Percy. Their eyes lock. George slowly stands.

"George, I –" Percy begins, but George begins to walk toward him so quickly, and with such determination, that Percy stops, certain that George is about to hit him. Percy stands right where he is, ready to face his fate. He deserves this and George is entitled. Besides, Percy thinks, they're already in a hospital, what better place to have his lights punched out?

It seems to happen in slow motion. Tears spill silently from George's eyes as he approaches. Percy sees the subtle change happen in George's face, his expression changing from sombre to anguished. This is it. They'd both feel better afterwards, Percy thinks.

And then George does something so shocking and so painful, that all the colour drains from Percy's face and he feels as though he's been punched in the stomach. A punch in the stomach might actually have been preferable to this. Percy receives not a blow, but an embrace. George flings his arms around Percy and squeezes. Percy stands there like a statue, straight-armed and confused.

"Thank you," George whispers. "Thank you for bringing him back to me."

Percy swallows hard. No, this is all wrong. He isn't to be thanked, he is to be yelled at and lectured and made to feel guilty.

But of course, no one wants to argue with George. Not today.

Percy awkwardly hugs his brother and blinks back tears. He doesn't dare say "you're welcome". He doesn't dare say a thing.

George finally releases him and smiles tearfully at him, his hands lingering on Percy's shoulders. Percy can only stare at him, wide-eyed, tears falling silently down his cheeks.

"Come," says George, and he takes Percy's hand and pulls him to the bed. Percy is too shocked to resist. George brings Percy to the chair he'd been sitting on and makes him sit. Percy stares, almost frightened, at Fred's seemingly lifeless body.

"Feel his chest," says George.

Percy looks up at him, even more shocked. "Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to. Go on." George doesn't wait for Percy to move. He leans over, takes Percy's hand and guides it gently to Fred's body. Percy is trembling now. He wants to protest. He's an intruder here. He shouldn't have come.

George lays Percy's hand flat against Fred's chest, over his heart, and holds it there. "Just wait," he says softly, watching his twin with a soft look of love and hope that breaks Percy's heart. They sit like that for maybe a minute. It feels longer. Percy isn't accustomed to this at all, being touched for so long. Touch makes him nervous, makes him fidget, makes him yearn, so he avoids it.

But no one wants to argue with George. Not today.

"What exactly am I supposed to be feeling here?" Percy asks, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels it; the tiniest little thump, followed a few seconds later by another. And then another. And then another. And then it stops. Percy's mouth falls open as he stares at Fred's body. Up until this point, George was the only one who could tell that Fred was still alive. The healers confirmed it, but Percy doesn't know how. Now he has proof too. He looks up at George, who smiles at him.

"See?" says George softly. "He's coming back."

He squeezes Percy's hand. It doesn't feel quite so odd anymore, having George's hand on his like this. Percy returns his smile.

After a while, George straightens up and touches Percy's shoulder. "Keep your hand there, you'll feel it again in a bit." George sounds almost normal now, almost as though nothing has happened to Fred at all. He wipes his eyes and then reaches into his pocket, pulls something out and shows it to Percy. "Remember this?"

Percy looks at it, frowns. Lying in George's palm is a tiny, ancient-looking iron key, about an inch in length. Its top is delicately designed with fine tendrils of metal swirling round each other. It prods at Percy's memory.

"That box I used to keep all my private things in when we were kids," he says, picking the key up off of George's palm.

"That box you used to hide things from me and Fred in, you mean. You said we could have it, sort of as an afterthought, when you were moving out. Remember?"

"Yes. You actually used it?"

"Nah. Fred insisted we burn it. I convinced him to just stick it up in the attic. I thought it would be really useful to us, since it's bigger on the inside, but we were too angry with you at the time. I found the key lying on the attic floor one day all by itself. The spell that was on the box must've malfunctioned because I think the stupid thing just imploded, so I guess it's lucky we never used it. I picked up the key and... well, I just kept it."

"What for?" Percy asks, looking up at George.

"Because it was yours," says George as though this should be obvious. Percy blinks at him, hardly believing this. George smiles. "Oh, don't look so shocked. What, I wasn't allowed to miss you? Here, you keep that. It's been my good luck charm, you know. I always keep it with me."

"Well, I don't want to take it from you, then. I don't need it."

"Nah, keep it." George looks at Fred, eyes shining with love. "I've had my fair share of good luck for one lifetime, I think. Just cheated death. Both of us."

Percy knows George means himself and his twin. Percy knows George would've died without Fred.

George pats Percy on the back. "Be right back. Gotta take a leak. Keep an eye on this one, will you?" He points at Fred's unconscious body. "Make sure he doesn't run off or something." He smiles warmly at Percy and then heads for the door. He stops in the doorway, turns back and says, "You know, Perce... I want things to be different between us now. For real."

Percy blinks at him. "What do you mean?"

George shrugs. "Family's important. You left us and I think that wasn't all your fault, or all Dad's fault. I think it was all of us. We all could've tried a bit harder."

Percy doesn't know what to say to this. He's not even sure what it means. He fidgets and says nothing and George finally leaves to find a restroom. Percy watches him go, one hand clutching the key so tightly it's digging into his flesh, the other still laid on Fred's chest where, once again, he feels the weak but determined beat of Fred's heart.

**6 Months Later**

Ever since leaving the Ministry and coming to work for the twins at their shop, Percy has complained a great deal.

"I hope you realise what a huge step down this is for me," he frequently reminds them. "I was Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, you know. Sorting out the chaos you call your finances is hardly a promotion. I could've gotten a much better position under Minister Shacklebolt, but my brothers needed me, so here I am." It is usually here that he exhales heavily as though being forced to bear a heavy burden.

Although, truth be told, Percy has gotten his fill of the Ministry after the debacle that has been the last few years. He welcomed the change. But he'll never tell the twins this, and one could never tell by the way he nitpicks at every opportunity.

"You know, George," he says one day as he contemplates the store window, "it might be more effective to have only one or two brightly-coloured, animated objects in the store window. It's a bit off-putting to walk up the street and be bombarded by a large, neon store front that can't seem to stay still. It makes it difficult to know where to look and might make one feel a bit queasy. You want a potential customer's eye to _land_ on something, you want a _focus_ , George… George? Are you listening?"

More often than not, George is not listening. Or if he is, his reply will involve a punch on the arm, or jumping onto Percy's back and riding him around the shop until Percy can shake him off, or, like today, under-his-breath mutterings about thinking that Percy must've been adopted.

"You shouldn't tease him so," Verity says one day.

The twins and Percy all look up at her, Percy from his perch behind the register, the twins from a display in the centre of the shop that they are setting up.

"Say what?" asked Fred.

"You treat him horribly," says Verity with a pout. She smiles sweetly over at Percy, who quickly goes back to the ledger he's been fussing over.

"Oh, don't worry about Perce," says George. "We kid 'cause we love. Isn't that right, Perce? He knows we love him."

Percy acknowledges George with a wave of his hand.

"Well, I think you could be nicer to him," says Verity.

"Cripes, V, if you wanna shag him, just say so," says Fred. This, Percy can't ignore.

"Fred!" he snaps, looking up and across the room at the twins, who grin back at him. Verity looks appropriately horrified and her entire head is turning bright red. She goes back to restocking the shelf she'd been working on.

"What?" Fred asks Percy innocently. "Not like you've got anything else going on at the moment."

"'Less you count that ledger you've been whispering sweet nothings to for the past half-hour," says George.

"My personal affairs don't need any help from the two of you, thank you," says Percy haughtily. He is about to say the same on Verity's behalf when he notices her watching him. Their eyes meet and she looks away again. Percy goes back to what he was doing, feeling bewildered. He isn't interested in Verity in the slightest. No, he is about as gay as a parade. Still, it is nice to be noticed, if that was indeed what has just happened. He tries not to smile.

He casts little glances up at the twins every now and then. They've gone back to just being with each other, as though there isn't anyone else in the room. They do that a lot. Always have. Percy wonders what they are whispering about. George playfully elbows Fred in the stomach and they both start giggling about something. It seems their eyes are only for each other, and it isn't the first time Percy has seen them look at each other like this.

"OW!" says Lee Jordan from underneath a display table. He has taken on the time-consuming task of gathering up all the Xs and Os that have escaped from the charmed Tic Tac Toe games they'd recently begun carrying. Lee doesn't work there, he has his own career, a radio show, but can often be found at the shop on weekends helping out.

"Can't you go any faster?" George asks Lee.

"You think you can do this any faster?" Lee retorts. "Whose idea was it to carry these ridiculous things anyway?"

"Mine, thank you very much. I'm the one who charmed them too, and I think I did a pretty good job."

"Bang-up job, George, bang-up job," says Fred.

"Thank you, Fred."

"Well, way to go," says Lee. "You've given the bloody things an insatiable desire for freedom – Ow! – and human blood, apparently!"

"What? The Os again?"

" _Yes_ , the sodding Os again! Did you give some of them _teeth_?"

Percy grins. This was what his Ministry job had been missing; people lying underneath tables, being eaten by letters of the alphabet.

"Well, how else do you make Tic Tac Toe challenging?" asks Fred.

"Well, you could've – _OW!_ You little buggering… As I was saying, you could've made the pieces or the board explode or something if the game's a draw."

"Oh, they do that too," George says casually.

"That's my boy," Fred says proudly.

"Teeth, George?" says Lee. "Really."

Fred snorts as he laughs and he makes his way over to Lee's legs, which are the only part of Lee that is currently visible. "I think a few might've gotten away from you there," he says.

"Shut up, Fred."

"No, look. Just there. There they go."

Lee kicks him. "None of them have gotten away. I got them all." Lee starts to wriggle out from under the display table. He is holding several boxes against his chest. Fred helps him up. "I think that's it, then," Lee says as he lines the boxes up on the table with the others. "I'm gonna head out. I've got loads of notes to go over for an interview I'm doing Monday morning. You'll listen to the show, won't you?"

"Don't we always? Thanks for the help, mate."

"Been a pleasure," says Lee, frowning at his nibbled fingertips as he heads for the door. "Later, guys."

Shortly after Lee leaves, Verity, whose cheeks are still very pink, finishes up her work and says goodbye to the twins. She gives Percy an awkward little wave and then hurries out of the shop. As soon as she is gone, Fred looks at Percy and says, "You should do her."

"Fred!" Percy snaps again.

"Oh, come on! When was the last time you got laid, eh?"

"That's none of your business," Percy says with an exasperated sigh. He shuts the ledger. "I'm done here, I'm going home." He stands up from the stool he's been sitting on, comes around the counter and heads for the little back room where all their winter outerwear is kept.

"Hey, when are you moving?" Fred calls to him. "You won't be able to afford that place much longer, will you? We don't pay you enough."

"Yes, I'd noticed," Percy calls back. "Any chance of remedying that?"

"Mmm... don't think so. Can't have an employee set up in a better place than ours. Looks bad to the other underlings, you know."

Percy rolls his eyes as he pulls on his cloak.

"Sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" asks George.

Percy comes out of the little room. Fred is still fussing over the display, but George is looking at Percy. His eyes are different than they were a moment ago. Instead of that familiar glint of mischief, Percy sees something he saw in Fred's hospital room, something soft and inviting, trying to draw Percy in. Percy fidgets.

"Er, no, but thank you." Percy slings his scarf around his neck. "See you Monday," he says and he Disapparates from the shop.

Percy is already home when he realises he's forgotten something in the little cubbyholes behind the shop's check-out counter. He could wait until Monday to get it, but something in him tells him to go back straight away.

Percy Apparates to the street outside the shop, certain he won't be able to Apparate directly inside now. However, when he gets there, he finds the shop's front door merely locked; no protective spells have been cast yet. The twins must still be inside.

As he moves into the dark shop, he sees that there is light coming from around the corner where the cellar's entrance is. He quietly approaches and begins to hear voices. The twins' voices, both raised in something like song. Percy has heard this song before.

Percy freezes where he stands. He glances at the check-out counter just off to his right. All he needs to do is go over and get what he's forgotten and leave. The twins need never know he came back tonight.

He steps lightly toward the cellar. He creeps up to the door and peers down the stairs into the dim light. He tip-toes down, telling himself to turn back. The song gets louder and his heart begins to pound and his cock begins to harden.

He creeps down into the semi-darkness, into a sea of wooden crates of all sizes, some stacked on top of others. He is disgusted at how easily sneaking around like this comes to him. The last few years at the Ministry helped hone his skills, he supposes.

He sees them before he can hide himself, but they're too preoccupied to see him. He ducks behind a couple of large crates, stacked one on top of the other, and he peeks around them to watch.

They are at the other end of the cellar, close enough for him to see them well enough, far enough away that he feels safely hidden in the darkness. The back half of the cellar is torch-lit, glowing and golden, and there are his little brothers, hardly little anymore, very much fully grown young men. They are naked and their bodies are perfect from what Percy can see. They are firm with just the right amount of muscle. On the floor in the centre of their glowing golden space is a square blanket and several pillows. Percy has seen those down here before, folded up and seemingly forgotten in a corner. He wondered what they were for, and now he knows.

One of the twins is pressed up against a wall, legs raised up off the floor. The other is pressed against him, holding him up, the first's legs wrapped around his waist. He is thrusting, fast and hard, into his twin's arse; Percy can see the length of his cock each time he pulls back. They are panting, they are groaning, they are glistening with sweat. Percy wonders which is which; he can't quite tell from this distance.

"Fuck me," grunts the one pressed to the wall, opening his eyes. His hands go up into his twin's hair, caressing the longish tendrils, gripping, sweeping the fringe out of his eyes. Percy is strongly reminded of the way George brushed Fred's hair aside in the hospital as he watched from the doorway. Percy decides it's George who's being fucked.

"Fuck me harder and tell me what you are," George growls.

Fred lets out a primal-sounding rumble from the back of his throat and then says, "I'm your bitch."

Percy's breath catches in his throat.

George groans in luxurious ecstasy. "You're a slut for me, aren't you?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes."

"Say it."

"I'm your fucking whore." Fred buries his face in his twin's neck, while George puts his head right back against the wall and closes his eyes. He has one arm wrapped around Fred's shoulders, the opposite hand is still gripping Fred's hair. Every muscle in George's body is taut and quivering, but his face is serene now, as though he's moved onto some higher level of bliss, as though the tension in his muscles can't be felt anymore where he's gone.

"Freddie," he whispers in Fred's ear, "you're mine. Do you hear me? And you're going to come when I fucking tell you to, aren't you?"

Fred can't seem to do anything but groan shakily into George's neck.

"Give it to me, Freddie. Give it to me right now."

There is a series of hard groans from Fred, nothing intelligible, and then his thrusts become quick and short. His arse clenches, his thigh muscles quiver, and Percy isn't sure exactly when Fred's orgasm begins, but it quickly becomes clear that he's in the throes of it. It's almost as if George is coming too, the way he's clinging and clawing at his twin, and he's moaning so much that Percy actually wonders if they can feel each other's orgasms. He then realises how ridiculous that is. He then realises that he's barely breathing and tries to remember to do so.

"Georgie, oh, Georgie." Fred whispers, fucking George hard as he comes. These soft whispers are in sharp contrast to his obvious passion, which is almost brutal in its intensity. But George's face couldn't look more calm and peaceful. His eyes are still closed and a soft smile touches his lips for just a moment. Next he is sighing as though relieved, as though his whole body is relaxing, and Percy realises that Fred's climax is tapering off.

"That's it," murmurs George, stroking Fred's hair. "That's my baby." George lowers his legs as gracefully as he can, forcing Fred out of him, arms wrapped around Fred's neck for support. Fred practically collapses against him, catching his breath, holding George around the waist.

"Fucking hell," Fred pants. "Holy fucking, son-of-a-cunt-on-a-stick, sodding, buggering, bloody HELL, that was incredible!"

George chuckles softly. "Glad to hear it. But now..." George pulls back a bit to look into his twin's sleepy eyes. "Now I've got a little something dribbling out of me, don't I?"

Fred nods. "Yes." Fred smiles at his brother. "S'pose I've got to clean up the mess I've made, eh?"

George nods, smiling too. "Yes, you do." He cups Fred's face and repeats as he leans in for a kiss, "Yes, you do."

Their lips meet and Percy's stops breathing again. It's like watching a mirror image come to life to make out with its owner. When the kiss ends, George looks into Fred's eyes and says, "It's running down my thigh, Freddie. What are you going to do about it?"

Fred steps back, takes George's hand and pulls him to the centre of the blanket. Fred gets down on one knee before George and looks up at him expectantly.

George smiles lovingly down at him. "Good," he says, stroking Fred's hair again. George lifts a leg and rests his foot on Fred's raised thigh, his crotch right there at Fred's face. "Go on," he says. "Start right there." He indicates his own raised thigh. Fred looks at it and then leans in and starts licking. They are little vertical licks starting mid-thigh and moving up toward George's groin along what must be a thin trail of Fred's own come. Fred gets this area clean and then begins eagerly nuzzling at George's very stiff prick.

"Ah, ah, you're not finished yet," scolds George. He turns his back to Fred and gets down on all fours, his knees apart, his arse presented. Fred sets to work immediately. He leans forward and buries his face in George, his eyes closing. Fred moans against his twin's flesh. He licks at the hole for a while and then moves further down, licking all the way from George's balls and up over the hole again. He does this again and again, and George lowers himself down onto his elbows, drops his head and begins making little noises of pleasure too.

Percy is staring, his mouth hanging open. He's pictured this a million times in his head, despite his efforts to block such images. He is torn between right and wrong, revulsion and pure lust. They're twins, blood relatives, he thinks. But he can't deny how right they look together. He can't deny the hardness between his own legs. His hand moves to his groin to adjust himself a bit and his hand lingers there a moment, fingertips travelling along the hard ridge beneath the fabric. By the time Fred has finished eating George's backside, Percy's hand has been pushed right down into his trousers.

Fred sits up and wipes his mouth, grinning at George, who turns to face him. Fred crawls toward him and asks, "Did I do good?"

George smiles back and raises his hands to cup Fred's face and stroke his hair again. George nods. "Yes, you did."

They are about to kiss, but George stops and looks off to the side. Percy stills.

"Did you hear something?" asks George.

Fred shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

"Swear I heard something." George looks directly at Percy's hiding place. Percy pulls his head out of view just in time. "Must be hearing things," says George. "Or maybe... we have an audience again."

Percy peeks out again. George has looked back at Fred.

"Again?" asks Fred, reaching out to play with George's erection.

"Remember when Percy used to listen?"

Percy freezes again. He feels as though his heart has stopped.

"Yeah," says Fred. "But he's gone home."

"What if he came back?" asks George in a conspiratorial whisper. "What if he's watching us _right now_?"

Fred snorts at this. "He wouldn't. He's too uptight. His head would explode if he saw this."

"Ohhh, I don't know, Freddie," George purrs, snuggling closer to Fred, nudging him down onto his back and going down with him. "I think he's more fascinated by us than he lets on."

Percy sits in the shadows with his hand in his pants, fingers wrapped around himself. He should flee. What if George isn't just playing? What if he's really onto Percy, really saw him just before he was able to pull his head behind the crate? But Percy can't leave now. When he came down, the twins were making an awful lot of noise. They are nearly silent now. Any movement will be heard.

George settles on his side, facing Fred who is on his back with his head on a pillow. George cuddles up to Fred like a contented cat, fingers lightly stroking Fred's chest. "You remember, don't you?" he asks. "He used to wank to us."

Percy shuts his eyes for a moment, absolute mortification flooding his entire body. His erection softens a bit. He takes his hand out of his trousers very slowly.

"It's been years," says Fred. "He wouldn't do that now."

"I don't think he's all that different now. People don't change." George drags his fingers down Fred's chest and belly, along his hip and then down between his legs. "If he could watch us now, I think he would. I think he is."

Fred grins. "Are you serious?"

George nods. "Completely. I told you I heard something."

Percy can't tell if George is serious or not. He suspects George is just playing a little game with Fred, pretending they're being watched. Even if he is serious, George has no real proof. At the first opportunity, Percy will bolt, and he'll deny everything when he sees them again on Monday morning.

Fred spreads his legs wide and Percy can tell that George is playing with his hole, probably prodding at it, rubbing it. His own pucker tenses and relaxes at the thought. He's hardening again. His hand moves back to his waistband and begins to slide inside.

"I think he's hiding in the darkness right now," says George as Fred begins to squirm. "I think he's hiding back there with his trousers wide open, that long dick of his hanging out, and he's touching himself while he watches us."

Did George just say "that long dick of his"? Percy shudders a bit, a little burst of pleasure shooting right down to his groin. Surely, the twins don't think about Percy and his dick, not like _that_.

Fred moans, his body arching, and he raises his legs and holds them back with his hands. "It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" he says. "The ones that protest the most."

"Oh, definitely," says George. He sits up and reaches for a wand and hands it to Fred. "Why don't you put on a show for our audience."

"Gonna make me show myself off, are you?" asks Fred as he turns a bit so that Percy now has a perfect view of the area between Fred's legs.

"Yeah, let's give him what he wants," murmurs George as he kneels at Fred's head, reaches forward and pulls Fred's legs back as far as he can, opening Fred up even more. Percy watches as Fred points the wand at his opposite hand, hears him utter a spell. As Fred then puts the wand down, he is rubbing his thumb against his other fingers. His spell has lubricated those fingers, and Percy realises that Fred is going to prepare himself for his twin's cock. Percy's hand is all the way down inside is trousers again and he is once again rock solid. He couldn't be more displeased with himself, watching his brothers doing this and getting off on it. A man should be able to control himself. But Percy just can't. As Fred's slippery fingers begin to work their way into his opening, Percy's hand begins to stroke.

 _You're sick,_ he thinks to himself. _They can't help themselves, but you can. You're sick, you're a deviant. You don't wank to your little brothers, it's disgusting!_ But it doesn't matter what he says to himself. He doesn't want to stop.

Soon Fred is breathing harder and he's got three of his own fingers buried inside himself. Percy wonders if he can get his whole fist in there. Percy thinks he'd like to see that. Percy's eyes nearly roll back in his head at the thought and he strokes himself faster.

"I'm ready, Georgie," Fred breathes as he pushes his fingers in deep.

George is gazing down at him, lovingly stroking his legs. George's hands never leave Fred's body as he moves to kneel before Fred, his fingers sliding along Fred's skin as though attached by magnets. George's back is to Percy now, but Percy still gets a good view of what he is doing, because George is leaning over Fred on all fours with his knees are spread wide.

It's all Percy can do to keep quiet as George pushes inside Fred. It's not only the visual of what they're doing, but also the sounds. Fred is soft and breathy and wordless; George is all murmurs and cooing things Percy doesn't understand but is certain that Fred does. He watches Fred's toes curl and George's arse tense as he slides all the way in.

Percy's trembling fingers unfasten his trousers and pull his cock out. One of the best things about leaving home was not having the temptation of listening to these two going at it. Actually, Percy often entertained the idea that they might have outgrown the behaviour.

Truth be told, one of the worst things about leaving home was not having the temptation of listening to these two going at it.

Percy thoroughly licks his palm and then starts working his own flesh again. He wonders if he's being too loud, if they can hear his breathing or the wet sound of his hand on his cock.

Fred's hands are in George's hair, gripping as though holding on for a wild ride. George's hips are thrusting faster, faster, and then he is pounding into his twin, filling the cellar with the slapping of skin on skin. One of Fred's hands moves down to lay on George's back. Percy can see his fingers slowly curling, nails clawing George's sweaty skin.

"I love you," Percy hears one of them pant.

"I love you, too," comes the reply. The words make Percy feel lonely enough; the fact he can't distinguish their voices makes it worse.

Their words dissolve into meaningless grunts once more, and Percy is coming silently onto the floor, onto his hand. The pleasure arcs through his body like a blade. He can't stop his own mind from thinking crazy things, of coming all over his brothers' faces, of their identical tongues poking out to catch his come like kids playing in the rain, he thinks of the sound of their voices over the sound of rain on his window.

It stops. The pleasure fades and he's left kneeling there with his softening prick in his sticky hand. George has gone limp on top of Fred and Percy can hear them murmuring and softly laughing. He takes the opportunity, while they are still wrapped up in each other, to scurry away, shooting a silent cleaning spell over his shoulder at the mess he's left on the floor, weaving through the wooden crates, tucking himself away and trying to zip up as he creeps up the stairs.

When he gets back up into the store, he stops, listens and hears nothing. He doesn't think the twins suspect anything. He walks toward the front door, still fiddling with his fly, which seems to be stuck. He curses under his breath and doesn't hear George come up the stairs.

"I thought I heard something."

Percy jumps and nearly falls into a display table. He quickly rights himself and pulls his cloak closed to hide his open trousers.

"I just got here," he says automatically.

"Oh, well, that sounded believable," says George with a grin. George has put on his robes and, Percy suspects, nothing else. There wasn't time for him to put on anything else. George is walking toward him. Percy holds his cloak closed and backs up toward the door.

"What are you doing here?" asks George.

Percy suddenly remembers that he came here for a reason. "I forgot something. I came back thinking you'd be gone already."

George nods. "Well, we're still here. As you found out."

"I didn't... I mean, I just got here."

George smiles. He lowers his face and shuffles his feet. "Did you hear us?" he asks softly. Percy says nothing. He stands there in silence and blushes. "It's okay if you did. We always knew you listened."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

George looks at him again and steps closer. Percy doesn't move back this time. He makes himself stay right where he is, though he doesn't look George directly in the eye.

"Do you remember what I said at the hospital?" asks George. "When we were in Fred's room together, I told you I wanted things to be different between us, remember?"

"George, I have no idea what you meant by that."

"I meant that I wanted us to be closer. I told you it wasn't entirely your fault that you left the way you did. We all helped push you out. I know that now and I'm sorry."

"I don't see why we're having this conversation now."

George steps even closer, so close that Percy can't keep not looking at him. Their eyes meet.

"Ever since Fred recovered," says George, "hell, ever since you brought his body back to us, I've been trying to figure out how to fix our relationship. I couldn't work out how to make it happen, though. The opportunity never presented itself and we all just fell right back into our old habits; the constant teasing from us, the constant nagging from you."

"I thought you liked teasing me."

"Well... we don't _dis_ like it."

"It is rather enjoyable," says Fred, who has just stepped into the room. He is fully dressed and approaching Percy and George.

 _"However,"_ says George, looking pointedly at Fred as Fred steps up next to him, "we're all adults now and maybe it's time for our relationship to change."

Fred raises a hand. "I'd like to go on record as opposing this change."

"Shut up, Fred," says George with a loving smile.

"But you said yourself that people don't change," Percy blurts out before he can stop himself. He freezes. George stares at him knowingly.

"I'm sure you've heard me say that loads of times before," George offers helpfully, though the little lopsided smile on his face tells Percy that George knows exactly where Percy has heard him say that.

Percy gulps. "Yes. Loads of times before."

"I think certain things can change if you really want them to," says George. "So, I've been wondering how we can get a bit closer to you for months. I think I know now." A smile spreads across George's face and he's practically beaming at Percy. "We can come out to you. We can tell you what we really are. We can let you in. Percy, Fred and I are a couple. A real couple. We're not just messing around. We're together."

Percy swallows, but says nothing. Fred slings his arm around George's shoulders and pulls him close. This strikes Percy as a protective move, as though Fred feels the need to shield George from whatever Percy might say next. The thought stings a bit.

"You all right?" asks Fred, eyeing Percy uncertainly. "Have your delicate sensibilities been horribly offended? You didn't hear us downstairs, did you?"

"He says he just got here," says George. "Besides, he's not offended. He likes to listen."

Percy stammers and laughs nervously and avoids their eyes. "I most certainly do not."

George seems to ignore this. He steps close to Percy again, looking right up into his eyes. Percy falls silent. "You could stay," he says in almost a whisper. "You could come up to our flat if you wanted."

Percy's heart begins a nervous little pitter-pattering. "Come up and do what exactly?" he demands in his most disapproving tone.

George's lips twitch a bit as though he wants to smile. "You could watch. We've often talked about being... exhibition-y."

"Never thought we'd be asking you, though," says Fred, who has crossed his arms and is watching Percy doubtfully.

"We know you used to listen, Percy," says George. "And we know that you'd sometimes... join in."

"All that heavy breathing you did," says Fred. "Thought you'd be smart enough to realise that if you could hear us, we could hear you."

"We knew you were with us," George continues. "And you never told on us. You have no idea how grateful we are for that. It's something we all share, the three of us. Like our own private little thing."

Percy is reeling. They're inviting him to come and watch them, really watch them make love, not peer at them from the shadows like some pervert. They want to share what they have with him. They want him to see.

"I don't see why things should change between us," Percy says stubbornly. "It's not like I don't know that you love me."

George shakes his head. "I want things to change. You didn't have to bring Fred back. Far as you knew, he was dead. You could have left him there."

Percy lowers his gaze, this time so that George can't see the liquid quivering on his lower lids. "George..."

"He was a liability. It couldn't have been easy running for your life while carrying his dead weight around."

"Sweet of you to say, thanks," says Fred.

Percy manages to blink his tears back as he looks at George again. "Of _course_ I brought him back," he says softly, but fiercely. "I wasn't about to just leave him there. How could you even..." But Percy's emotions threaten to overtake him and he has to look away again.

George reaches out and touches Percy's arm. "Come upstairs," he urges. He reaches back with his free hand to touch Fred. Fred gives him his hand immediately and George pulls him close. Fred steps up behind him and George holds their clasped hands against his belly. George looks at Percy again.

Percy can already see how things will go. He sees himself sitting off in a corner, watching the two of them on their bed, watching their sweaty passion and feeling exactly as he's always felt; an outsider. Besides, Percy might like to listen, and even watch, but he doesn't like what it might mean that he likes it so much. Bringing it out in the open is like saying it's okay, and it most certainly is not.

Percy shakes his head. "I have to go. I have to get up early tomorrow for... something." He closes the fastenings on his cloak. He can deal with his fly when he gets home.

"Are you sure you won't come up?" asks George.

"He doesn't want to," says Fred. "I told you he wouldn't."

Percy frowns in disbelief, realising this isn't the first time the twins have discussed including him. "It wouldn't be right," he says firmly. "And what you're doing... together... that's... I mean, that's just..."

"That's just what?" Fred demands, daring Percy to finish his sentence.

Percy gulps and reconsiders. "You haven't told anyone else, have you?"

"Course not," says Fred. "We're not stupid."

"We think some people might suspect," says George. "But they haven't said anything."

"Well, you seem to understand the importance of keeping this quiet," says Percy. "So, I will assume I don't have to say it to you."

"No, Mr. Fucking Perfect," snaps Fred. "You don't."

"Good. I'll leave you now." Percy steps away, heads for the check-out counter, steps around to the back of it and pulls something out of one of its little cubbyholes. He quickly pockets it and then heads for the door.

"You have to come up one night after work," says George. Percy stops at the door and looks back at him. George is watching him earnestly, that soft inviting warmth in his eyes again. Fred's arms are still crossed.

"I told you, George, we can't do... whatever it is you suggested a moment ago. It would be wrong. And weird."

"But just for dinner, yeah? Just to spend some time together outside of work. Please? We can't waste anymore time. The war must've taught you that. Almost losing Fred must've taught you that."

Percy knows George is right. After a moment, he nods his head. "You're right. We should try to be closer. It's almost irresponsible not to at least try in light of everything that's happened. Yes, fine, I'll have dinner with you. _Just_ dinner. Does next Friday work for you?"

George grins at him again. "Yeah, next Friday's good."

At that, George turns away and heads back toward the cellar. Fred eyes Percy for a moment longer, his expression softening a bit, and then he turns to follow his twin. Just as Percy unlocks the door and is about to exit, George calls to him again.

"Oh, about your flat," he says from across the dark store.

"Yes?" asks Percy suspiciously. "What about it?

"There's a place upstairs next to ours that's recently become available. It's a nice little building, this. You should consider it."

Percy frowns at this, but nods. "I suppose I could have a look. Thanks."

"Forget it."

Fred steps past George and heads back downstairs. George lingers by the cellar door, still watching Percy.

"Walls are kinda thin in this place, though," says George casually. "Hope that doesn't bother you." George smiles a rather coy little smile and then turns away and follows Fred downstairs.

Percy stands there a few moments longer, staring at the place where George was standing. When he turns back to the door, he sees it's begun to snow and he remembers that he can Disapparate from directly inside the store.

He locks the door and steps away from it, watching fat snowflakes drifting down outside. He hasn't found another flat yet, and this is as good a place as any. He thinks about living upstairs next to the twins, listening to them fuck every night, joining in with them in his own way, in secret like he used to. Just like old times. His stomach leaps into his throat as though he's jumped off a building.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little iron key he's just retrieved from behind the check-out counter. He stares at it for a moment and then closes his hand around it, feeling its sharp edges poke his skin. He thinks he'll come back tomorrow to have a look at the place upstairs. He smiles to himself and then finally Disapparates.

END


End file.
